on was waiting for him.

"Well, Kemp, what do you want?" There was nothing in his manner to
indicate that he was put out by Mr. Kemp's appearance. He spoke in quiet
even tones such as would seem to suggest that he was well acquainted with
his visitor.

"Can I speak to you on the quiet for a moment, sir?" whispered
Kemp hoarsely.

Holymead looked round the room. The manager had gone back to the booking
office and Hawkins had vanished. The few people who were in the room
seemed occupied with their own affairs.

"No one will overhear us if we speak quietly," he said as he took a seat
close to Kemp. "What is it?"

"You're watched and followed, sir," said Kemp in a whisper. "Somebody has
been watching this place for days past and whenever you go out you're
followed."

"By whom?" asked Holymead.

"By a varmint of a boy--a slippery young imp whose father's in gaol for
a long stretch. I got hold of him this afternoon and told him what I'd
do to him if he kept on with his game. He's living in an old loft at
the back of the hotel garage, and he keeps a watch on you day and
night. I thought I'd better come here and tell you, as you mightn't
know about him."

"You did quite right, Kemp. What's this boy like?"

"An undersized putty-faced brat with a big head. He's about fourteen or
fifteen, I should say."

"Who is he? Do you know him?"

"Leaver is the name, sir. To tell you the truth, I don't know him as well
as I know his father. His father is a 'lifer' for manslaughter. I've
known him both in and out of gaol. And when I was coming out four months
ago Bob Leaver, this here boy's father, asked me to look up his family
and send him word about them. I went to the address Bob told me, in
Islington, but I found they had all gone. The mother was dead and the
kids--a girl and this here boy--had cleared out. The old Jew who had the
second-hand clothes shop Mrs. Leaver used to keep told me that the boy
had gone off with that private detective, Crewe, more than two years ago.
So it looks to me as if he has turned nark and Crewe has put him on to
watch you."

"Can you describe this boy more closely?"

"Well, sir, I don't know if I can say anything more about him except that
he has red hair and big bright eyes that are too large for his face."

"I thought so," said Holymead as if speaking to himself. "It's the
same boy."

"What did you say, sir?" asked Kemp.

"Nothing, Kemp, except that I think I've seen a boy of this des